


Green

by valkyrie12310



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Alternate Universe - Human, Arthur is sad, Arthur-centric, Band Fic, Character Study, Childhood, Death of a mother, France Being France (Hetalia), Green Eyes, How Do I Tag, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, POV Arthur, Purple Prose, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, hope you guys like this, i tried to make it deep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 04:10:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11751720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrie12310/pseuds/valkyrie12310
Summary: Arthur's life, up to this point, can be described in shades of green.Basically half a k of purple prose-y and another half of a k of these nerds kissing.





	Green

Up to this point, Arthur’s life can be described in shades of green.

The beginning was green like the grass he ran across, trying to escape his brothers. It was clean and crisp and fresh and alive. It was green the colour of those bandaids that he put over his scraped knees from being pushed around. It was the green of his mother’s apron as she pretended to smile to her 5 boys while behind closed door cried and desperately tried to save money. Green was the colour of the home he grew up in, endless pastures and a family that tried. Green was the home he left behind, to chase his own dream.

Green was the colour of his first guitar. Nothing like the fresh green of his past. It was an electric green, a green that screamed “look at me!” It’s toxic and ugly and loud and Arthur loves it. He makes it his life, his passion, his dream. He practices day and night till his fingers bleed and the neighbors complain. It hurts and it’s wonderful. He finds people with the same look in their eyes as him. His first performance takes place in a dimly lit bar, dirty and cheap. In the low light, Arthur can just make out the colour of the walls: green. Green the colour of decay and mold. Arthur smirked and started to play.

His first piercing was green. It hurt and bled, but it was done cheap, so he guess he couldn’t complain. When he looked in the mirror, it made him look dangerous. Feral. He looked like an animal starved and it was great. It was funny how a thin bar of metal under his eyebrow could change so much. Arthur slapped 20 USD on the counter and walked. The money was creased and stained with who knows what, but underneath, they too were green.

Green was the colour of his only journal as he walked into college, angry and out of place. He might have not looked the part with his piercings and scowl, but he was there to learn. Arthur ignored the sneers and sat alone. He kept his head held high, higher than what society said was ok. He didn’t give a fuck.

The letter he got halfway through the year was on green stationery. It was light and pretty and elegant and made Arthur want to tear it into pieces. He didn’t. Instead he refolded the letter carefully and packed his bags to go to his mother’s funeral.

His home was still the green he remembered, so different from his current life. He hated it.

When he arrived to his shack of an apartment, he stopped and took a moment to really look. An empty box lined with band posters. The singular lightbulb flickered, illuminating dust motes gliding across the air. Arthur fucking hated it. A strange urge came over him. That day, he went and bought 3 cans of paint, forest green, dark and murky, so close to black. The paint went up over previously pale plaster walls and that was that.

And from then, Arthur’s life is sort of a blur. He misses her. Which is strange, because he was the one who left. He wanders from place to place and for the first time, his life is colourless. That’s a lie of course. His guitar and piercing are as green as ever. So are his books, his newly painted room. (So was that goddamn letter.) But it seemed colourless. For the first time, Arthur Kirkland found no purpose in his life. It’s strange how much it matters to him. When he left, it was with purpose. When he started his band, it was with purpose. When he started studying, it was with purpose. And with a single letter, whoosh. Man it hurt. Guess you really don’t miss something until it’s gone.

So Arthur survives. Walks from class to class. Eats 3 meals a day. Practices a couple hours. Stares at the ceiling until he falls asleep. Rinse and repeat.

It’s so goddamn boring.

And then he meets him. He’s walking to class one day and as he turn a corner, he slams straight into another person. Books and papers go flying everywhere. Arthur looks up with a scowl, and ends up looking into the bluest pair of eyes he’s ever seen. It sounds cheesy, but Arthur’s pretty sure that sort of blue is for skies (like the one above his home, his old home). Arthur thinks his heart melts a little. He scowls some more and curses at the man(who overall is very handsome (Gold hair, sharp jawline. Arthur melts a little more).

“Pardon!” The other student knelt down, fumbling with the papers.

“Watch where you’re going,” Arthur knelt down too.

The two of them snatched the papers up in sync off the concrete floor.

“Here,” the blond student handed a stack of papers to Arthur, “My name is Francis. Nice to meet you.” Francis smiled.

“Tch. Arthur. I’m going to be late,” Arthur took the papers, ignoring the little shiver that threatened to run down his spine when their fingers touched. Arthur definitely did not turn tail and run. No, he calmly walked to his class.

* * *

After that, Arthur’s life took a change.

From that point on, Arthur started to notice Francis everywhere. They ended up in coffee shops, in libraries, just together in all sorts of places. And Arthur’s life became a little less green and a little bit more blue. It was pretty.

Then Francis asked him out to drinks. Arthur sputtered for a bit, but accepted. That night, Francis took him to a type a bar he had never been to. The place was clean and brightly lit. People smiled and laughed. The place was painted a robin’s egg blue, soft and airy. Arthur tsked and grumbled, but inside? He loved it.

They went on picnics together. It was idyllic. Arthur had never experienced idyllic before. It was all very quiet and personal. For once in his godforsaken life, Arthur didn’t survive, but instead, lived. And it was all because of that one Frenchman. Arthur smiled and closed his eyes, trying to keep tears in.

Three days later, Arthur looked up at Francis, hair done up in a messy bun, frowning down at his latest drawing, and felt a little weak inside. Fear struck him as he looked at how perfect everything was. It felt like an illusion, some poorly written story by some heart-eyed teen. Arthur reached over, tangled his fingers into Francis’s hair, and kissed him, hard. It was fast and dirty and rough. Teeth scraped over lips without hesitation. Tongues danced, wet and hot. They pulled away after an infinity and a half, both gasping for air. A thin line of saliva hung between their mouths. Francis’s lips were red and swollen. Arthur couldn’t stop staring at them and their soft, bitable plumpness.

“You’re always in such a rush, mon lapin,” Francis’s voice knocked Arthur out of his trance. Arthur opened his mouth to protest, no, he was not in a rush, when Francis swooped down for a second kiss and knocked the words right from his mind. This kiss couldn’t be any more different from the other one. If the first one was sharp edges and a ruthless pace, this one was gentle and sensual and romantic. Every motion was a caress. It was sweet and nice and everything that Arthur never had in life. Arthur opened his eyes and saw blue.

~~

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Like always, thanks so much for reading^^
> 
> Every kudo, comment, request, general interaction lights up my day. 
> 
> Until next time!


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